


Imagine Reality

by owlish_peacock



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Imaginary Friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 17:25:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlish_peacock/pseuds/owlish_peacock
Summary: "I see no line between the imaginary and the real." Imaginary friend AU





	1. Chapter 1

The first time he came to her, she was six years old. **  
**

He was a flame burning through the dismal October fog, lighting the dark in her own foggy heart.

Claire’s parents had died a week earlier, and it left her with a numbness of the senses that seemed incomprehensible to her young mind. She felt sadness, of course, and a bit of anger. But, mostly she felt nothing, as if she were floating on the outside of a dream.

The first time he came to her, she was kneeling by her parents’ graves, her hands touching the fresh, compacted dirt in reverence… in benediction. The earth was cold beneath her fragile fingers, but that soon gave way to numbness. It made sense, really. Why should her hands feel something her heart could not?

“Are ye okay?”

The boy appeared from the air, as if some magical occurrence dropped him beside her. But she did not respond. A quiet child, Claire was not one to speak to strangers, even though this particular stranger held nothing but kindness and curiosity within his jewel-blue eyes.

As if he just became aware of his surroundings, the boy pointed a small, pale finger at the rectangular stones in front of them.

“Whozzat?”

“Mummy and Daddy.” Claire was surprised to find her voice, hoarse and soft as it was.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Errybody…” She sniffed. “Errybody keeps saying that. But I don’t know why.”

“I think it’s just what yer ‘posed to say when someone says something bad.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Claire still caressing the loose dirt. She was a tomboy at heart, and didn’t mind it much.

“I’m Jamie. I didna tell ye afore.”

“I’m Claire.”

His eyes twinkled with the ideas that ran through his mind. “Will ye be my friend, Claire?”

She hesitated. “I dunno. I don’t have friends. I dunno how.”

“It’s easy! I’ll show ye!”

***

Lambert Beauchamp was many things, but a father he was not. But here he was, now the official guardian of his young niece. And he had no idea what he was going to do. Looking at her, kneeling before her parents’ graves, she seemed more to him a stranger than a daughter. He barely knew the girl, and yet, now he was responsible for her upbringing, at least for the next decade.

From what he could gather from observations, she was a odd sort of girl. Rough and tumble, unafraid of dirt and bugs and plants. She was a soft-spoken child, but surprisingly expressive. Even now she gestured grandly with her hands as she spoke to some invisible being.

Odd, yes. But no lesser for it. Lamb remembered his own oddities: his vagabond tendencies, his interest in things rather than people. He could see himself mirrored in young Claire.

Life would never be the same, for either of them. But perhaps this would be the start of something wonderful for them both.

***

Lamb struggled for the words that would help him converse with his niece. “That’s a… lovely bear, Claire dear.”

In truth, the teddy bear that Claire clutched was dingy and matted, but the knitted green sweater it wore gave it a rough charm.

Claire pulled the bear closer, her own personal shield. “Thanks. Mum and Dad gave it to me.”

“You miss them.” It wasn’t a question.”

“Mmhmm.”

Lamb sighed. This girl wasn’t going to help him get to know her at all. “I know. I saw you talking to them. At the graveyard. It’s okay if you feel lonely, and you—”

“What d’you mean?” Dark brows drew together on a sweet, pale face. “I can’t talk to them. They not here.”

“Yes, well. Sometimes people find… comfort in talking to people that aren’t there.”

“That’s doesn’t make no sense. I wasn’t.”

“Who were you talking to then, dear?”

“Jamie.” She said it simply, and it all made perfect sense to her.

Of course, Lamb understand this aspect of children. Their imaginations were as wide and endless as the sky. It was best to let them explore that.

“Of course.” Lamb spoke in exaggerated tones one saves for speaking with children. He felt rather silly. “And is Jamie your friend?”

With that simple question, Claire’s face transformed. It was the happiest he had seen her since her parents’ passing.

“We are bestest friends.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jamie became a principal player in Claire’s young life. He was her sidekick, becoming more and more inextricably entwined with Claire as the days passed. And Lamb knew that wherever Claire was, Jamie was never far behind. **  
**

“And will Jamie be staying for dinner with us?”

Lamb watched as Claire turned to her right, her eyebrows drawn in deep, attending to the silence. She spoke to the air beside her: “You sure?” Another pause. “Okay.” Then she turned to her uncle. “He says he can stay, but he’s not hungry.”

“Is he sure?”

“Mmhmm. Us go play now.”

“Alright. I’ll call you when the food is ready.”

But she had already skipped off, arm outstretched as if she were holding someone’s hand.

***

When Claire was nine, she was introduced to the phrase _imaginary friend_. She overheard her uncle speak about it one morning on the telephone. Which was odd to Claire, because Uncle Lamb was never one to simply chat on the phone.

“Yes. For almost three years now, I’d say,” he answered into the receiver. Claire remained hidden behind the wall, wanting to be privy to this one-sided adult conversation. “And that’s normal, for an imaginary friend? … Mmhmm… Well, I am bit worried, you see… Right… Okay… Thank you very much. Goodbye.”

Scurrying back up to her room, questions ran through Claire’s mind:

What was he talking about?  _Imaginary friend_? What did that even mean?

She wasn’t entirely sure, but she knew someone who might know. She’d ask him.

***

“Jamie?”

“Hmm?” Jamie’s head snapped up from the playing cards in front of him. He was letting his hair grow out, Claire noticed. The bright, shaggy curls stuck to his eyelashes and covered his ears. He blew a breath upward toward his fringe, displacing the twisted ends from his eyes.

“Your hair’s long.”

“Aye.” He grinned in pride; someone noticed all his hard work.

“You like it?”

“Mmhmm. Ye don’t?” He twirled the ringlets self-consciously between his fingers.

“It’s fine.”  

They went back to their silent companionship: Jamie studying his game of solitaire, Claire doodling in her notebook. This was how it was for them sometimes. Some days they were loud, boisterous in a way only children can be. Other days, though, they merely relished the company of one another: regarding their own tasks while enjoying the quiet fellowship.

“Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s a _ima…gin…ary friend_?” Claire spoke slowly, making sure she said the words correctly.

“What?”

“I heard Uncle Lamb on the phone. He said ‘something something  _imaginary friend_.’ I don’t know what that is.”

“Is it something bad?”

“I… I don’t know. He said it like it was bad.”

Jamie mulled over that information. Surely, if it was a friend, it couldn’t be bad. Could it? Then, an idea popped into his head.

“Do ye have a… umm… ummm…”

“What?”

“That book. With all the words in it. My sister uses it for her schoolwork…”

”Oh, yeah!”

Claire scurried to her small bookshelf, pulling out her colorful _Children’s Dictionary_. She held it up in victory.

“Here!”

“Dic-tion-ary. Aye, that’s it! Bring it here.”

She spread the book on the floor; they huddled shoulder-to-shoulder over it.

“Okay. So, it goes by the first letter. What’s the first letter of imaginary?”

“Umm…”Jamie began sounding out the word. “ _Ih… ih…_ It’s a  _i_  or  _e_ ,  I think.”

“ _Ih…_  it’s a  _i_ , I think. _E_  is  _eh_.”

“Okay. _Ih…mmmm_.  _M_  is next.”

The pair continued to sound out the letters until the word formed.

“Here it is!  _Imaginary_. It says  _imaginary_  means  _not real_.”

“That doesna make sense. How can a friend no be real?”

Claire shrugged, but her mind raced. A friend that wasn’t real? Well, she didn’t have many friends to begin with, and she was pretty sure they were real. They went to school with her, she had met their parents. What about…

“You’re real, aren’t you Jamie?”

His head snapped up. “Aye. Are ye?”

“Of course!”

“Well, dinna fash, then. Yer uncle must be talking about someone else.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

But, Claire  _did_  fash. Her uncle wasn’t telling her something, and she didn’t like it at all.


	3. Chapter 3

“Where are we going?”

“The doctor.”

“But, I’m not sick.”

“Well… no. But, this is a different type of doctor, my dove. You know how doctors make sure our body is healthy? Well, this doctor makes sure your mind is healthy.”

***

Claire was twelve when she saw a therapist for the first time.

***

“Claire, my name is Dr. Brooks. How are you today?”

She shrugged. “Fine.”

“Good, good. Now, we’re just going to be talking a bit today. How does that sound?”

“Fine, I guess.”

Claire had no personal issues with Dr. Brooks; he was a kind, soft-spoken man in his late 30s. No, Claire’s attitude stemmed from the explosive combination of being told what to do and preteen moodiness.

“How about you tell me about school. How is that going?”

“Fine.”

“Explain  _fine_.”

Claire sighed noisily. “I mean, it’s fine. I get good grades. I have friends. It’s fine.”

She watched as Dr. Brooks’ pen scratched against the notepad in his lap. What was he writing down?  _Why_? “Mmhmm. That’s wonderful, Claire. What’s your favorite subject in school?

“Ummm… Science is cool, I guess.”

More scribbling. “Science is very cool. I always liked science, too. What about your friends?”

“What about them?” Uncle Lamb always said her sass would get her in trouble one day.

“Tell me about them.”

“Well, there’s Louise. She’s French.”

 _Scribble, scribble_. “Very interesting. Anyone else.”

“There’s Mary. She’s really quiet.”

 _Scribble._  “Mmhmm.”

“There’s Jill. But, I’m not really sure if she’s my friend or not.”

The pen stopped. “How so?”

“I mean… She talks to me and everything. But she’s kind of mean sometimes.”

“Mmmm. That’s not fun, is it? Have you tried talking to her about that?”

“No.”

“Mmhmm.” Why did he keep making that noise? Claire rolled her eyes. “Anyone else you want to talk about?”

“Not really.”

“No?” He turned to his notepad and continued writing. Claire’s fingers itched to snap his pen in half. “Your uncle tells me that you have a friend named Jamie. Is that true?”

“What?”

“Do you have a friend named Jamie?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But Claire was never a convincing liar.

“You can be honest with me, Claire. This is a safe place.”

“I mean, yeah. I guess.”

“You guess what?”

“I guess I have a friend named Jamie.”

Furious scribbling. “Tell me about him.”

“He’s… nice and funny. He helps me with schoolwork.”

“What does he look like?”

“Why do you care?” She was tired of answering questions. Tired of talking. She wanted to go home.

“I just want to know about your life.”

“He’s tall. With red hair. Happy?”  _Scribble, scribble_. “Stop writing!”

Dr. Brooks dropped the pen into his lap, and held his hands out in surrender. “Okay, Claire. Let’s talk about something else. Shall we?”

“No, I don’t want to.”

“Then, let’s just sit.”

***

Claire burrowed deeper into the car seat, making her sulking obvious to her uncle. She wasn’t happy. At all.

“Claire…” This was a warning.

“Why did I have to do that?!”

“I worry about you, Claire.” Uncle Lamb always spoke to her like an adult: straightforward and honest.

“Why? I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“What do you–”

“You have an imaginary friend, Claire! You’re almost thirteen, and you still play pretend!”

“Uncle–”

“I fear the death of your parents had a larger effect on you than we realize.”

It was often that Claire was speechless; she always had something to say. But now… she couldn’t think of the words that would placate him. Instead, she said the first thing that came to mind: “I don’t have an imaginary friend.”

He made a noise Claire had never heard from him before: a groan of anger and annoyance. “Then, who is Jamie?”

“He’s real.”

“He isn’t real, Claire! I’ve never seen him! You’re friends have never seen him! He’s all in your head.”

“He isn’t–”

“You have to grow up, Claire. You can’t spend your life inside your head. You have to live.”

That was the end of the conversation.

***

_Grow up. Grow up! GROW UP!_

The words echoed angrily in Claire’s mind.  _She_ was angry. Angry at her uncle. Angry at Dr.Brooks. Angry at Jamie. But, mostly she was angry at herself. Angry for believing her uncle. Angry for conjuring up Jamie. Angry for never understanding the truth of it all.

Tears welled up in her eyes, emotions spilling forth with nowhere to go.

But, what could she do? Her uncle would never be happy until…

No. That thought was unbearable.

She couldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

But she had to.

***

Claire rehearsed the words in her head hundreds of times. She had to do it. She could not let her emotions get in the way. She had to do it.

“Sassenach!” Jamie burst through her bedroom door, all arms and legs and hair. Claire had run out of time. She had to do it.

“Hey, Jamie.” Her voice sounded flat to her own ears.

The look of concern on Jamie’s face nearly broke her. She couldn’t do it.

She had to.

“What’s wrong, Claire?”

“I have to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Just… come sit.”

Jamie lowered himself into her desk chair. He seemed too big, too tall for such a small chair.

“Jamie, I…” The words stuck in her throat. She had practiced this so many times. Why was it so hard now?

“Claire?”

“Jamie, you… We…” His eyes were clear and fathomless, sucking away all her resolve.

“Yer scaring me.”

“Jamieyouhavetogo.” The words flew out in a rush of indistinct sound.

“What?”

“You… you have to go.”

“Oh, are ye busy.” He stood up. “I can come back tomorrow.”

“No, Jamie. You don’t understand. You have to go… for good.”

He fell back into the chair noisily. “What?”

“I… I need to grow up.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“I can’t… I can’t keep playing pretend.”

“Yer no making sense.”

“I can’t have an imaginary friend anymore, Jamie! You have to go!”

Silence. She felt him creep closer to her where she sat on the bed. She couldn’t look into his eyes when he knelt in front of her. She couldn’t move when he grabbed her hands. She couldn’t. She couldn’t.

She had to.

“Claire, look at me.” She couldn’t. “Claire, please.” The desperation in his voice frightened her; she glanced up to be met with dripping blue eyes. “Claire, what is going on?”

She sighed heavily, her voice wavering. “Uncle Lamb said I need to grow up. That I can’t have an imaginary friend.”

“I’m no imaginary, Claire! I’m real!” He squeezed her hands to prove his point.

“You’re real to me, but… You have to go, Jamie.” She couldn’t let him change her mind. She had to do it.

“Claire, please…” There were tears, falling from his eyes to meet the corners of his lips. “Yer my best friend.”

Her smile didn’t feel real. “And you’re mine. But… there’s no room for it, anymore. I have to grow up.”

“Claire, I…. I know yer uncle is making ye do this. So, I… I’ll go. For now.”

“Jamie, please.”

He stood up to his full height, hovering over her. “We’ll meet again, Claire.”

She didn’t believe him. “Okay, Jamie.”

And he was gone. Disappeared into the air, like the way he came into her life.

Gone.

And Claire fell on the bed, and wept. She wept for the friendship she would never get back, for the secrets that were no longer shared, for the friend that would never return. She wanted so much to take it all back, to go back in time.

No.

She had to do it. 


	4. Chapter 4

Time is cruel. The ticking clock echoes the bruising beat beneath the ribs. It blurs memories and rearranges thoughts. Life becomes a hazy ribbon of years past, tied into a pretty bow of the present. **  
**

Time passes. The days drag, but the years lurch forward, seeming to shorten as they pass. Life becomes a twist of moments and regrets, memories burned into minds and hearts.

Time moves inexorably.

***

**Twenty Years Later**

“Dr. Beauchamp? Dr. Beauchamp to the nurse station.”

Claire’s days were filled busy hustle of a hospital. She didn’t mind, really. It was her passion, her calling. A working woman, they called her, which was fine. It was fulfilling, it brought her joy; she didn’t need anything else.

“Dr. Beauchamp!”

Although, she could do with a few days vacation.

***

Nurse Mary Hawkins stood, frazzled as ever and worry bright in her overly large eyes. Claire and Mary had been friends since they were children, and had become a sort of Batman and Robin at the hospital: never one without the other, providing strength to the other’s weaknesses. Even now, Claire’s calm demeanor worked in opposition to Mary’s high-strung nervousness.

“What’s going on, Mary?”

“Janet Murray has come in, complaining of pain. I fear she might be having contractions, going into labor.”

“She’s not due for another three weeks.”

“Yes, I know. That’s what worries me.”

“All right, then. Let’s go.”

***

“Mrs. Murray! How are we doing?”

“Weel, Dr. Beauchamp. I’ve been…urgh…better.”

“Yes, well. That’s understandable.”

Put simply, Claire liked Jenny Murray. Her good humour and sarcasm throughout her entire pregnancy had been a constant source of entertainment, even during rough days. They shared a connection—a kinship—despite the sterile setting.

“Alright, then, Jenny. Let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”

“Are ye no going to at least take me for dinner first?”

***

At 2:43 p.m., Jenny and Ian Murray welcomed a son into the world. A tiny thing, with a crown of peachy hair and lungs that would put larger babies to shame. They called him Ian.

“I thought to name him after his father. I mean, I did all the work, but ‘Janet’ isna a very good name for a lad.”

Claire watched the elder Ian beam with pride at his first born. Men. Fatherhood never truly hits them until the child is born.

“Well, I’ll leave you both alone before you get bombarded with family members.” Claire turned to leave before Jenny’s voice stopped her.

“Will ye come back? I’ve told my family about my superior doctor, and I ken they’d love to meet ye.”

Claire was touched, her voice a bit choked with emotion. “Of course. I’ll come after my shift, in about three hours.”

“Great!”

***

Claire felt all eyes focus on her when she entered the room. She was an outsider: not family, not even a friend. She felt her face heat at the awkwardness of it all.

“Are ye Dr. Beauchamp? Jenny has told us about ye.” The large man spoke to her in familiarity. He was older, broad-shouldered, and dark like Jenny. Her father, Claire guessed.

“Aye, that’s her. Doctor, this is my da, Brian.” The tall man smiled. “And this is my mam, Ellen.”

Claire had never see such a pair of opposites. Ellen was petite and fair, her hair a red flame curling under her chin in a fiery bob.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

“And this is my brother, Jamie.”

Jamie. The name echoed in Claire’s mind, bursting with memories she tried to forget.

Jamie. She hadn’t heard that name in a very long time.

She focused on the man in question. Broad like his father, flame-haired like his mother. He was bent over the small bundle in Ian’s arms, curls tickling his face.

“Nice to meet you, as well.”

“Huh?” His head whipped toward her, eyes widening as they scanned her face. “Oh, umm, yes. Nice to meet ye, too… I’m sorry. I forgot yer name.”

“Dr. Beauchamp.”

Eyebrows furrowing, he spoke: “Beauchamp? That’s an… unusual name…”

Jenny intervened. “She didna come here to be insulted, brother!”

Red flooded his cheeks. “Oh, no! I didna mean it like… I used to know someone with that last name. Not verra common around here, ye ken.”

“It’s fine! I’m not offended. But, I should be going. Nice meeting you all!”

A chorus of goodbyes followed her out the door.Then she began her trek: the long journey to the elevator. Claire was fairly certain this was the longest, straightest, emptiest corridor in the entire hospital, though she had yet to test that theory.

“Dr. Beauchamp!”

Jesus. She just wanted to go home, and fall asleep with her cat. Was that too much to ask?

“Dr. Beauchamp!”

Claire turned, coming face-to-face with the large frame of Jenny Murray’s brother. Jamie. That was his name. A name she wanted to forget.

“Jamie. Is everything alright? Is Jenny okay? I’m off my shift, but I can get–”

“Nay, she’s fine. Everything is fine. I just wanted to ask ye an… odd question.” He grinned sheepishly. Although Claire was a bit annoyed at the moment–she just wanted to leave!– , she couldn’t help but smile back. He had a pleasantness about him that was undeniably appealing.

“I’m a doctor, Jamie. I get odd questions everyday.”

“Um, okay.” He giggled shyly. An odd noise coming from such a man. “It’s strange, I’m just… curious. What is yer first name?”

“Oh.” She wasn’t expecting that. “Oh… um… Claire. It’s Claire.”

“Claire Beauchamp?”

“Yes…?”

Just then, she was crushed against him, her nose pressed painfully against his breastbone. What the hell?

“Thank Christ. I told ye I’d find ye.”

Confused and alarmed, Claire struggled out his arms to face him. She had never seen such joy on a person’s face. And she delivered babies for a living.

“I’m sorry, Jamie. I think you have me confused for someone else.”

“No, no. It’s me. Jamie.”

Was he insane? Claire would hate to have to call security on Jenny’s brother, but if worse came to worse…

“No, sorry. We’ve never met.”  

He looked at her like she was stupid. “Jamie Fraser.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know a Jamie Fraser.”

That was a lie, but the Jamie Fraser she knew existed only in the corners of her mind.

“Claire… Please…”

“Jamie.” She let all her frustration seep out into his name. “Look. I’m sorry I’m not who you think I am. Now. I need to go home. Have a good day.”

She turned away from him. The conversation had drained her, and she was more than ready to leave.

“Your parents died when you were six!” Claire froze. “You were raised by your uncle. Uncle Lamb.

“Listen, I don’t know—“

“Ye got braces when ye were eleven, and ye cried for a whole day, because ye thought ye were ugly.”

“H—how…?”

“And that summer, ye got so sunburnt that ye could hardly stand wearing a shirt.”

“Jamie—“

“When you were twelve, yer uncle took ye to see a therapist. And, that same day, ye said goodbye to me.”

She could see it. Those jewel blue eyes that stared in sympathy at the graveyard. The deep red curls that twisted to tickle his forehead. That long nose that crinkled in concentration.

He was changed, but he was also exactly the same.

“Jamie…?” Claire whispered. She felt tears threatening to overflow.

“Yes, Sassenach. It’s me.” He enveloped her in the safety of his arms.

“I thought you were—“

“I ken. But, I’m here. I found ye. And I’m no going anywhere."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A teeny, tiny bit NSFW

_I never do this_.

Such a cliche, but the truth often was. Claire never slept with a man she just met.

 _But, you didn’t just meet him_ , she had to remind herself.  _You’ve known him for over twenty years._

While true, Claire couldn’t reconcile that fact. This man, sprawled in the sofa in his flat, was undoubtedly the boy she knew as a child. And she knew that boy better than she knew herself. But, was the man different than the boy?

 _Of course he is_ , she scolded herself.

Of course. But how different? He still seemed the same; every characteristic she loved about him as children seemed present still: his kindness, his humor, his intelligence.

And, at that moment, Claire decided it didn’t matter. Perhaps he was different, but he would always be her Jamie.

Taking a deep breath, she asked a question she already knew the answer to: “What’s behind this door?”

“Oh, my bedroom.”

“You didn’t show me that on your grand tour…” She never was good at shameless flirting, but she was trying her damnedest.

It seemed to work, as he flushed a deep red to match his hair. “I… I didna ken ye wanted to see it…”

“I do. If… if you want to show me, that is…”

She had never seen a human being move so fast.

***

Jamie’s bedroom was similar to the rest of his flat: masculine, but a bit plain.

“Weel… this is it…”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes, so Claire decided to make the first move. She walked to him, slowly, sensually.

Placing both hands on his chest, she spoke. “I like it. It’s… very you.”

He took a shaky breath, and closed his eyes. “I… I’ve dreamed of ye often these past twenty years, Claire. I worried I’d never see ye again. But, now yer here.”

“I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Claire saw the flash of a grin at his own words before she pressed her lips to his.

He smelled of soap and sandalwood, and his lips felt like a missing piece. Claire pressed herself closer so their bodies were connected, lips to hips. Jamie groaned.

“Claire… I… I canna tell ye how long I’ve wanted to do that… Actually, that’s a lie. I ken exactly how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Oh, yeah? How long?”

“Twenty-two years. Since we were ten.”

Claire wrapped her arms around Jamie’s neck; his arms enveloped her waist. “And…? Did it live up to your expectations?”

“Oh, it exceeded them. By far.”

“Good.”

He pressed his lips to hers again, a deeper kiss than the first. Tongues danced behind teeth and breath mingled, until they pulled away gasping.

“This is strange, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But… you were my best friend for the longest time. Part of my soul. I loved you, so very much…” A deep breath. “Perhaps I still do.”

Claire felt fingers beneath her chin, lifting her gaze. Her eyes met the impossibly blue ones of the man before her. “Aye. I ken exactly how ye feel.”

And there it was. Feelings they couldn’t possibly feel put into words they could barely say. Love. It felt different, now, though. Before, it was love borne of childhood and friendship. But, now… Now…

 _No, that was silly_. Claire thought.  _You can’t love someone you just met._

_But, then, you didn’t just meet him, did you?_

***

His lips were urgent against the skin of her neck, as if he were trying to taste every inch of her. He nipped softly at the juncture of her shoulder and neck, causing her to groan loudly.

Everything was new, and yet, everything was familiar. The contradictory combination of comfort and excitement rose within Claire’s chest, causing a swell of pleasure to overtake her heart.

His hands and lips knew her innately, seeking out the places that tickled her skin and made her gasp. Likewise, it was as if she knew his skin deep within her subconscious, and touching him was as natural as breathing.

Shared breaths became shared moans. Clothes fell to the ground in piles of cotton and denim. They stood, bared to one another in every way a person could bare themselves.

“You’re beautiful.” They spoke simultaneously, as if they were one.

And they were. They always had been.

They fell together, revelling in the intense contact. His skin was soft, though it was shrouded in the coarse, golden hair that sprang up all over his body. Claire threaded her fingers through the strands on his chest, and tugged gently. He panted in her ear.

And when they joined, in a flurry of passion and tenderness, the world shifted into focus.

Together. They always had been. They always would be.

***

“Do you forgive me, then?”

“Forgive ye? For what?”

A sigh. “For leaving you. For making you go.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Claire.”

A caress. A kiss. Touches so full of love and kindness, and Claire melted beneath them. But, she wasn’t done talking.

“Perhaps. But, I am sorry, Jamie. I—“

“Claire. None of that matters now.”

Another caress. Another kiss.

“Jamie…”

“Claire…”

Their grins mirrored each other, pure happiness radiating beneath the blankets of the bed.

“I’m glad you found me again, Jamie.”

“Me too.”

He rolled over, then, pinning her beneath the weight of his love. He tickled her with stubble and lips, and she adored him in kind.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun rose, beckoning the dawn of a new day. **  
**

The dawn of a new life.

In the golden glow of morning, Claire could truly study the lines of Jamie’s face. He was strong, a face of angles and points that gave him a look of ferocity. But now, in sleep, she could see the boy she once knew: curls tickling his eyes; freckles painting his nose; mouth curling in a small, secretive smile. These were all familiar to her, as recognizable as the lines that created her own face.

And now, in the soft dawning light, that familiarity felt like home.

***

Claire woke again, hours later, to the bright sapphire gaze of her companion. Grinning, he bent down to place a kiss on her lips.

“Jamie, no. I probably have morning breath…”

“Nay, ye smell good…”

Another kiss, this one longer and more ardent.

“I need to get up.” Claire made a move to roll out of bed, but an insistent arm kept her in place.

“Nooo,” Jamie whined. “Stay.”

“I have to go home and shower before work.”

“Ughhh.”

Claire chucked a pillow at his head. “You’re such a child,” she teased. “Have you matured at all since I last saw you?”

“No way.”

Since she last saw him… twenty years ago. She fell back into the bed, sighing. What would they tell people of their relationship? It wasn’t something easily explainable. Or believable, for that matter. Claire wasn’t entirely sure she believed it, either.

“What are ye thinking about?”

“Us.”

“That doesna sound good.”

She let out another sigh. “It’s not that… It’s just… What do we tell people? What are we? I mean, is this even… It doesn’t make sense.” The words tumbled from Claire’s mouth in a rush, a blur of sounds that barely made sense to her own ears. “I mean, the truth… it’s unbelievable. But, what even is the truth, you know? And  _your sister_ …”

“Claire. Yer working yerself up.”

“I know. I do that sometimes…”

“I know.”

Turning toward him, she saw the pure honesty behind his eyes. He knew. Of course he knew. He was there when the anxiety attacks began… Right after her parents died. He was her calm, her steadiness when life twisted in unexpected and unwelcome ways.

She smiled at him, and grasped his hand in hers, squeezing. “I know you know. It’s just… what do we do?”

“At the moment? Nothing. No one has to know how deep this goes. We can say it’s… casual.”

“Casual?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’m not a good liar.”

“I ken that. Just do yer best.”

***

Time moved slowly, each second like a minute. Each minute like an hour.

 _Quit being foolish_ , Claire scolded to herself.  _You’ve only been away from his for a couple hours._

Despite the reprimands, she still felt unable to keep her mind away from Jamie. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Is he happy? Is he thinking of her?

_Idiot._

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the room she was most dreading,

“How’s Mum doing today?”

Jenny Murray shifted, stretching her small body to arch off the bed. “Sore. And tired.”

“And did you expect any different?” Claire teased, checking vitals.

“Nay. But ye ken what they say: ‘Hope for the best, expect the worst.’”

“Yes, well…” She trailed off, feeling Jenny’s direct gaze on her. Looking up, Claire saw her eyes narrow. Such familiar eyes…

“Are ye okay?”

“Hmm? Yes, I’m fine.”

“Ye seem… distracted.”

“Oh, um. Yes, well. It’s been a fairly hectic day.”

“Are ye sure? I ken that yer my doctor, but ye know I truly care about ye. Yer a good person, and I just want to make sure yer alright.”

Claire felt her heart beat heavily in response to Jenny’s kind words. “Thank you. I’m fine, though. Really. In fact, I’m very happy.”

Satisfied, Jenny flopped back on the pillows. “Good. Ye need to get yer rest though. It looks as if ye didna sleep a wink last night.”

***

“Your sister knows something is up.”

Jamie stretched beside her, like a big cat waking from a nap. “Jenny knows everything.”

“Ha. Ha. I’m serious, though.”

“Aye? And what did she say?”

“That I was ‘distracted.’ I guess I was a little bit.”

“And what occupied yer thoughts all day?”

Damp kisses peppered the soft, sensitive skin of her neck, causing her thoughts to jumble. “Oh, just… work… and stuff.”

“Is that all?”

She pushed herself away from him, making sure to leave a sizeable space between them. “There might have been someone… A tall, charming redhead…”

“Should I be jealous?”

“Nahh.”

He kissed her then, a soft kiss full of tenderness and longing. “I thought about ye, too. I just… couldna get ye out of my head. I… I feel so lucky to be here with ye… To finally touch ye and talk with ye…”

Claire latched onto him, holding his as close as their bodies would allow. “Me too.”


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing Claire saw as she entered Jamie’s flat was a round, jean-clad arse sticking straight in the air. Jamie’s round, jean-clad arse, to be exact. She walked toward him—resisting the urge to smack him as she passed—to find his top half buried in the hallway closet. **  
**

“What in God’s name are you doing?”

“Looking.”

She rolled her eyes. Obviously. “For what?”

“My duffle bag.”

That was a surprise. “Duffle bag? Are you going somewhere?”

“Aye.” He emerged from the closet, bumping his head on a shelf on his way out. “Ow! Shit! Yeah, I’m heading to Lallybroch this weekend. Ye remember me telling ye about Lallybroch?”

Claire nodded. How could she forget? Jamie had told her all about it, weaving the words that brought his childhood home to life before her eyes.

_Heather so thick, ye dinna even touch the ground when ye walk on it._

_The tower is crooked, crumbled on one side. That’s how it got its nickname, ken?_

_It’s a large house, and quite intimidating. Ye could get lost in it if ye dinna ken the way!_

“Of course I remember.”

“Weel, Mam and Da are having a bit of a get together for Jenny and Ian and…Wee Ian.”

“Oh, that’s nice! A family affair?”

“Aye. My uncles are coming up from Edinburgh, and I’ve a few cousins that’ll join them.”

“And what am I to do while you’re gone?” Claire teased, flopping onto the sofa.

“Oh, weel… I… Uh…” Jamie seemed to struggle for words. Did I fluster him somehow? “Did… did ye want to come with me?”

Oh. That’s what unsettled him.

“Oh, Jamie. That’s kind. But… is it not too soon?”

They had tried to hide their relationship from friends and family in the hopes of revealing it to them when the time was right. They couldn’t very well tell everyone they had known each other for twenty years. The truth couldn’t be divulged; they had to wait out a lie.

“I dinna…”

“Besides, I have to work this weekend.”

“Oh.”

His disappointment was palpable. Claire wished for a way to clear the small scowl from his face, but she knew nothing she could say would erase the hesitance in her voice.

“I’m sorry, Jamie.”

He smiled a bit, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Dinna fash.”

But, how could she not when she knew she hurt him?

***

**From: Claire Beauchamp**

**To: Jamie Fraser**

**_Be careful! Let me know when you make it to Lallybroch!_ **

**From: Jamie Fraser**

**To: Claire Beauchamp**

**_I will! Have a good day at work!_ **

Claire slumped in her chair, throwing her phone on her desk.  Almost immediately, it dinged again.

**From: Jamie Fraser**

**_I’ll miss you :*_ **

****

**From: Claire Beauchamp**

**_I’ll miss you too. I already miss you :(_ **

****

**From: Jamie Fraser**

**_Don’t frown, Ssnch. I’ll be back before you know it._ **

****

**From: Claire Beauchamp**

**_I knowwww! Just be safe!_ **

****

**From: Jamie Fraser**

**_< 3_ **

She sighed, slumping again. She would miss him, of course. Dearly. But, she hated the way she upset him before he left. She was afraid she had hurt him more that he let on…

***

Saturday, Claire woke with a crick in her neck, and coldness in her bed. Rolling over, she typed a message on her phone.

**From: Claire Beauchamp**

**_How’s it going, lover boy?_ **

****

**From: Jamie Fraser**

**_Great! We’re actually going through some of my parents’ old things right now._ **

****

**From: Claire Beauchamp**

**_Ohhhh. Have you found anything interesting?_ **

But, she did not receive a response immediately. In fact, she didn’t receive a response all day. It was 10 pm when her phone sounded again. The message, short and curt, unsettled her.

**From: Jamie Fraser**

**_Yes._ **

***

Sunday came without another word from Jamie.

_Is he ignoring me?_

Irritated, Claire messaged him.

**From: Claire Beauchamp**

**_Hey?_ **

****

**From: Jamie Fraser**

**_I’m on my way back._ **

****

**From: Claire Beauchamp**

**_Everything okay?_ **

****

**From: Jamie Fraser**

**_Yes. I need to talk to you, though. Soon._ **

She didn’t like the sound of that.

***

Jamie flew into her apartment, disheveled and weary, but as beautiful as ever. The darkness under his eyes revealed his exhaustion, and his dragging feet were hesitant. Still, he greeted Claire with a small kiss and a lopsided grin.

“What’s going on Jamie?”

With those words, the grin disappeared. “There’s something I need to show ye…”

Throwing his duffle on the sofa, he began rummaging through it, throwing out multiple pairs of socks and underwear in the process. He walked toward her with a small package, and thrust it into her arms.

Carefully peeling back the protective paper, she found a book beneath. A small, dark leather book, emblazoned with three golden letters.

“ECM. Who’s that?”

“My mam. Ellen Caitriona MacKenzie. Her maiden name. This,” Jamie prodded the book with a finger. “Is her journal. Was her journal.”

“Okay… What does this have to do with anything?”

“Read it. She speaks about my da… It… it sounds like us.”


End file.
